


Dark Dreams

by ko_writes



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Blood, Douglas is scandalised, Dreams, F/M, Hamlet - Freeform, Is it wrong Dark!Martin is so sexy?, Mental Instability, Murder, Shakespeare Quotations, Snogging, Violence, Weirdness, dark!Martin, fem!Moriarty, hematomania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:43:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2311679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_writes/pseuds/ko_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin has started having very peculiar dreams at night. A beautiful, yet demonic, dream girl is changing him into her dream sniper. Will Martin's sanity stay intact? What happens when these dreams start spilling into the waking world? Can Martin keep it together? Dark Martin. Martin/fem!Moriarty. Warnings: Hematomania and other such fetishes described, but nothing too explicit; murder; and a few more things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The first dream

Martin slowly walked towards the door. His hand brushed the cold metal handle as he decided to enter.

His gaze rested on a beautiful woman, with straight black hair in a slack ponytail down her back, draped elegantly over a red velvet throne. Her red lips looked soft and her brown eyes had glint of mischief. “Why, hello Mr Crieff,” she smiled wickedly, her Irish brogue caressing each syllable.

“May I ask what this is about, or how you know my name?”

“I’ve had my eye on you for quite some time, sexy,” the mysterious girl answered, “there’s something about you… I’m not sure what it is… but I like it. I think you have potential in my trade.” A devious smile spread across her lips.

“Who are you?” Martin eyes narrowed sceptically.

“I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” she sauntered over to the captain, slipping her hands into his pockets with that evil smile that was just so sexy!

“Your name?”

“Jane Moriarty. Hi!” Her voice sang the greeting in varying and experimental pitches, “Consultant criminal.”

“Consultant criminal?”

“My trade. People come to me when they have a few… immoral intensions, per say; and I help them achieve what they wish to achieve, for a price of course.”

“Never heard that before.”

“I’m the only one, I invented the job.”

“What makes you think I have potential in your little business venture?”

“Not so little anymore, honey. We have hundreds of people wanting my services every day; and we’ve hit a little snag. My previous sniper got himself caught in cross-fire and I’ve found myself unable to replace him; until I saw you.”

“What makes you think I could do it?” Jane removed her hands from his pockets.

“I can sense talent a mile away, sexy; and you have it. You'll be perfect if your sanity survives. Also, who would suspect the short, nervous, stuttering, red-haired pilot?”

“Captain! I’m the captain!”

“I know that and you know that, but everyone else overlooks it.”

“And I’m not short, and I’m not nervous or stuttering now, am I?”

Jane sighed in annoyance. “This is a dream, you know.”

“Makes sense,” Martin shrugged.

“I want you to do something for me…” Jane pressed the slim, contours of her body against Martin’s and slipped her hand underneath his purple silk shirt (that he doesn’t remember owning) and caressed the skin of his chest.

“Yep, definitely a dream.”

“Naughty, Captain,” Jane pulled Martin even closer, if that was even possible, by his lapel, “I like naughty. But that isn’t what I want you to do… yet.” The smile on her lips was so devious, so evil, so mind-numbingly sexy.

“What would you have me do?” Martin smirked as he stroked Jane’s cheek, she seemed to almost purr.

“Murder.”

“Mmm…”

“You aren’t refusing, which is good. I want you, tomorrow, in your dreams, to pick a random individual and to brutally murder them.”

“Sounds like fun,” Martin growled.

“Well, you are more than willing. I knew you had potential. You can use anything you like; knives, bullets, fire – oh, I’m positively tingling with excitement,” she exclaimed with a child-like glee.

“Anything for you.”

“Mm, maybe I could give you a little something, my… Jaguar…” Jane sighed, a little… excited by the weapons talk. She slipped her hands into Martin’s pockets – back pockets this time – and proceeded to lock his lips with hers in a passionate battle for dominance a power in said kiss; Martin wouldn’t have it any other way. Suddenly, she bit down hard on his bottom lip, drawing blood. She growled as it smeared her lips. “Hematomania,” she whispered against Martin’s bleeding lip.

“What a coincidence…” Martin smirked as he returned the bite, drawing blood as well, and growling as the warm, salty, copper liquid smeared his lips, mixing both their blood together on each other’s mouths like an artist mixing paint on a palette.

Jane pulled back. “See you soon, sexy.”

…

Martin woke with a start.

What the hell was that?! Had he just told that… that demon girl he would murder someone for her?! And what the fucking hell was that thing with the blood!?!

He did not have time to freak out. He had a flight to Canada today. But… God, it freaked him out!

What was going to happen tomorrow? What was he going to do? It was only a dream. It was only a dream. Martin took a shower and threw on his captain’s uniform; he ran out of the door as quickly as he could and drove to the airfield.

…

“Ah, Martin,” Carolyn greeted, seeing the visibly dishevelled captain, “Are you quite alright?”

“I’m fine. Totally fine. Couldn’t be better,” he dismissed stiffly as he entered the portacabin.

Surprise, surprise; Douglas wasn’t there yet. Arthur sat in the corner; tossing an apple from one hand to the other with a large grin plastered on his childlike face; ‘Jane’s was something very different to that,’ Martin couldn’t help thinking. Since when had he decided to regard her in a warm manner like that?

If it wasn’t enough that he was thinking about that demonic girl, Douglas had to walk in with a nosebleed. Martin subconsciously licked where Jane had bitten his lips and a growl escaped the back of his throat. “Excuse me, sir?” Douglas looked absolutely scandalised.

“What is it, Douglas?” Martin couldn’t stop staring at the blood, remembering how devilishly good it felt last night.

“You sort of… growled, skip…” Arthur interjected, confused.

“Jesus! I… ah… um… I…” Martin blushed an extraordinary shade of red.

“What the hell was that for? I didn’t even know you could make that noise, Captain!” Douglas was certainly disturbed. Douglas took a look at his Captain’s untamed hair and creased uniform, “Is sir quite alright?”

“Yes. Yes, fine.”

“Martin…”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously something.”

“I just had a weird and slightly disturbing dream, that’s all…”

“What was it, skip?” Arthur asked.

“Martin, do tell us; it’s obviously affecting you…”

“It’s quite… strange…”

“That’s alright,” Douglas dismissed.

“I… I’m not sure I want to say in front of Arthur…”

“Oh… It was… Oh…” Douglas was visibly surprised, but Martin realised what Douglas thought it was.

“What?! No! No! It wasn’t that sort of dream! Oh, God no! Well, not really…”

“Martin, what happened in this dream?” Douglas asked.

“Well… I was walking in this abandoned building; an old psychiatric hospital, by the look of it; I walked into the room and there was just a throne in the centre with this beautiful girl with jet black hair laying on it. She was Irish… She called my sexy. She told me her name, Jane Moriarty. Isn’t that a beautiful name? That’s where thing sort of went downhill. She told me that she thought she had potential in her trade; she said she was a consultant criminal. She pressed her body against mine and slipped her hand underneath my shirt; she told me that she wanted me to do something for her…”

“Martin, if this is going where I think it’s going –”

“She asked me to, next time I was dreaming, pick someone at random and murder them. I didn’t hesitate a single second before I made up my mind –”

“Then why are you –”

“I said yes,” Douglas and Arthur gasped, “She told me that she knew I had potential. She said I could use anything I liked; knives, bullets, fire; it was exciting. I told her that I’d do anything for her and she called me her jaguar. That’s when we started making out. She bit my lip and drew blood. She whispered ‘Hematomania’ against the wound and I said ‘what a coincidence’ and bit her back. I loved the salty copper taste in my mouth and it was just… so sexy… That’s when I woke up.”

“You have Hematomania? A bit kinky for you, isn’t it, Martin?” Douglas drawled, wiping the blood away from his nose with a handkerchief.

“I didn’t know… But, God, Douglas. I said I would take another life for that girl and I was turned on by her blood in my mouth!”

“What is Hem… Hemat…” Arthur attempted to ask.

“Hematomania is a term referring to anyone who has a blood fetish. People who have Hematomania experience arousal at the sight of blood,” Douglas explain.

“Ew! That’s put me right off… all food. That’s disgusting, skip!” Arthur recoiled.

Martin seemed to be leering at the blood on Douglas’ face and handkerchief. “For God’s sake Martin!!! Concentrate!” Douglas yelled.

“Can you please stop your nose bleed and put that handkerchief away?!” Martin asked.

Carolyn burst through the door, “What is all this shouting?!”

“Douglas is uncomfortable because he has a nose bleed and Skip has Hema… Hem… A thing with blood,” Arthur tried to explain.

“He means Hematomania,” Douglas supplied.

“And what does that mean?” Carolyn huffed.

“It means our dear captain has a blood fetish,” Douglas elaborated.

“Martin… That’s…”

“Disgusting? I know.” Martin huffed; still staring at Douglas’ blood.

“Will you stop doing that?!” Douglas yelled, “That’s my blood, you know.”

“My first boyfriend had Hematomania…” Carolyn sighed slightly. Martin shuddered at the images presented in his head, Douglas had a look of horror on his face and Arthur had turned a strange shade of green.

“Moving very, very swiftly on; we have a plane to fly,” Douglas pointed out.

“I’ll go do the pre-flight checks…” Martin informed as he left the portacabin.

“And I’ll go clean myself up so sir doesn’t drool over me the whole flight…” Douglas announced.

“Douglas, why is your nose bleeding?” Arthur asked.

“I’m just prone to nosebleeds every now and then, Arthur.”

“Oh, ok.”

With that, the MJN crew went to do their jobs.

…

“Coffee, chaps!” Arthur exclaimed as he burst into the flight deck.

“Hello, Arthur. You seem recovered after earlier,” Douglas drawled.

“I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh God, this can’t be good…” Martin groaned.

“Skip said what blood tasted like, didn’t he?” Arthur asked.

“Yes…” Douglas answered, Martin’s head dropped to his hands. This was not going to be good.

“Which means he’s drunk it before, right?” Arthur added.

“Arthur, he said that he bit the girl’s lip; he must have.”

“Well… Doesn’t that mean skip’s a vampire?”

Martin whipped his head around to glare at Arthur, murder in his eyes, “No Arthur! I am not a bloody vampire!”

Douglas noticed Martin’s hand unconsciously hovering over the cheese knife. He looked back at Martin and thought it best to knock it out of his reach.

“S-sorry Sk-Skip. I’ll g-go now…” Arthur hurried out of the flight deck.

“That was a little cruel,” Douglas sighed. Martin only huffed in response. “You’d expect someone with Arthur’s view of the world to have questions about that disgusting kink of yours.”

“Shut up, Douglas! Shut. Up.” Martin growled.

“Of course,” Douglas muttered, not wanting to end up being sliced like cheese.

“What have you got there?” Martin noticed the morning paper in Douglas’ hands; folded as it would be irresponsible to read it while flying an aeroplane; but Martin could see half of the photograph on the front cover.

“It’s a newspaper, Martin. I didn’t realise I had it in my hand when I left the portacabin.”

“I need to see the front page.”

“Martin. What the –”

Martin grabbed the paper out of Douglas’ hands. “I thought it was! Jesus… Oh God…” Martin started to panic.

“Martin, what is going on?” Douglas asked calmly.

“The girl… from… from my dream is on the front page! Same name and everything!”

“Let me look then!” Douglas snatched the paper back seeing a black and white screen-shot from a CCTV camera. She was wearing a thin black trench coat with the collar turned up against her face. “Man-hunt for pyromaniac and mass-murderer, Jane Moriarty; also believed to be the leader of several crime-rings and numerous terror cells. I have to say that she doesn’t seem like your usual type Martin…”

“Actually, I quite liked her in my dream. She was certainly something else…” Martin smirked. Douglas was a little too horrified to respond; so the rest of flight stayed silent.


	2. Jet Engines

_**There is nothing to worry about. I am**_ **_asleep, I_ _control the dream. Make my way to the airfield and fly GERTI for a bit. Forget about Jane._ _I run this show; I'm the lead actor, lead performer, I'm the ringmaster; this is my mind._ **

_He walked across the tarmac towards the plane he loved._

_ What if Arthur or Douglas or Carolyn is in there? What if you do what she asked of you to them? Could you look them in the eye?_

_**This is a dream. Dreams are nothing more than what they are, dreams.**_

_ "To die, to sleep - no more – and by a sleep to say we end the heartache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep. To sleep – perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause."_

_**Since when did I study Shakespeare?**_

_ The very moment you started speaking like one of his protagonists._

_**This is my dream, they won't be there. I'm in control. Nothing bad will happen in this night's dream.**_

_ But you aren't. "There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."_

_**I am not Hamlet in my despair! I am but a vessel of your depraved wishes. If you are indeed part of me and not one of possession, you are the weakness in my mind, the darkness that lies in a crevasse and nothing more.**_

_ Am I? I don't think so. I think I'm slowly growing more and more. How did dear Arthur look on the floor of the galley with a cheese knife through his heart?_

_**Silence!**_

_ Not yet, my dear Hamlet. _

_"Martin?"_

_He turned behind him to see George, holding a wrench. Martin furrowed his brow. "Hello George... Why do you have a wrench? I thought you were on the fire crew?"_

_"I also studied engineering for a bit, they needed me to fix an engine on one of the jets - it won't stop spinning," George shrugged. When did that 737 get there?_

_"I see." Go, I must go before I hurt him! Martin turned on his heel and made his way to GERTI._

_"I'm glad you don't come to the bar anymore," George chuckled. Martin stopped in his tracks._

_"Excuse me?" Martin frowned, stepping towards the other man with his shoulders squared and jaw clenched._

_"All you did was talk about bloody planes, it was tiring."_

_"But what do you mean? The bar was closed down..."_

_"Wow, Douglas really did fool you, didn't he? Then again, he always does -"_

_"Shut up... Fruit boy!"_

_"How very hurtful, Hamlet," George drawled, leaning into the engine to get a better look, "But alienation is something you aren't a stranger to, isn't it?"_

_That's when he snapped._

_"There is method in my madness," Martin laughed, as he gave George a shove._

_Blood-curdling screams died as George - once a man - was now being torn and shredded into bloody pulp, gristle, lipids and chunks of bone; splattered behind the engine among traces of clothes. Martin smiled as red splashed onto his cheek._  

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is probably the only Martin/Fem!Moriarty in existence; lucky you!  
> Please review.


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